Hawk

by Abigail Graham

  When he finally closed his lips around my nipple I thought I was going to explode. The need between my legs was hot and strong, pulsing down to my toes. I tugged on his hair and pulled on him but he was in control, savoring my body. When he worked further down my stomach, it was like nothing I’d ever felt before. I’d fumbled with my fingers, felt some pleasure in my bed, but I was terrified of myself, in a way. Victor wasn’t. He settled in between my legs, kissing his way down from my navel and then I felt his mouth, hot and wet, and his tongue on my sex, and let out a soft sound before clamping my hand down over my mouth. Victor looked up at me, clearly amused at my embarrassment. Then he returned to tasting of my body, lightly at first, then more and more forcefully, his hands sliding down my sides to cup my backside in his hands.

  I spread on the bed, my eyes lidded. My hand fell away from my mouth and I gripped the sheets. I started to shake and quiver, my legs, trembling, and Victor backed off, lightly kissing my thighs instead. I relaxed even more, closing my eyes all the way, and he went back to my sex, only this time I felt something press at me. His finger. He was putting his finger inside me. Lightly, experimentally. My slick walls gripped his finger as he entered me, slowly, his hand trembling a little. Deeper, deeper. He was watching me, listening, and when his finger pressed in the right spot and my back arched, he knew he had me. It wasn’t long. Each time I lifted to a new height of pleasure I thought it was the end, but there was more. I was drowning in my own body, sliding away into a haze, and then it grew more intense, more powerful, building and building until I arched on the bed and my legs shot out, the muscles clenching and bunching as my throbbing sex squeezed his finger. Suddenly his licking and sucking was too intense and I writhed under him until he stopped, and rolled onto my side, panting.

  He sat up and licked his fingers clean.

  I though his cock was big before, but it was fully hard now. When he sat up it stood up straight against his belly. I looked at it and thought he’s going to put that inside me.

  He ran his hand over my back. “Feel better?”

  “Mmm. Yes.”

  “Good.”

  “Are we going to do it?”

  “Rest. You’re not ready yet.”

  I swallowed. “I want to something for you.”

  “Eve,” he said.

  I was already slipping to the floor. My legs trembled as I knelt beside the bed. I don’t know why I was so fascinated with the idea, but looking at his body just made me feel… almost greedy. There was no other word for it. I slipped between his legs and he stared at me, his tight stomach quivering. I rose up on my knees and pressed against him, so his cock pressed against me as I kissed his chest. His skin tasted salty. He was hard all over, but the skin on his chest and stomach were not like I expected, silky smooth. Even the tattoos. Up close, I studied them. There was an urgency in his body, like he was willing me to move lower. As I slid down his cock slid against my body, between my breasts. I dipped down and trembled at the idea, willing myself to do it, psyching up. I dipped down and took his cock in my mouth, and he moaned softly, digging his fingers into my hair. His legs pressed against my arms and he leaned forward over me, panting.

  Just the touch of my lips on the head was driving him wild. It made my heart pound in my chest. I took him deeper, ran my tongue around him. I thought he would like it if I used to my hand, too, so I did, and he gripped the edge of the bed with one hand while knotting his fingers in my hair with the other. His body trembled and his hips rocked as I moved my head up and down, testing him. I could feel the tension building in his body with every stroke, every touch. When I made a soft, hungry little sound, he tensed up all over, the head of his cock flaring in my mouth. I sucked on the tip and stroked the shaft, my spittle making it slippery in my hand. Victor tensed and tensed, his whole body shaking. Veins stood out on his stomach, and as I cupped his balls in my hand I felt them tighten.

  He cried out like he was in pain, his face tight and red and sweaty, but it wasn’t pain. There was a hot, explosive rush in my mouth and I didn’t know what else to do but swallow, so I did. Then there was more, and more, and more. I felt strange, possessive and possessed at the same time.

  I sat back, kneeling on the floor, staring at his cock, then at him. He put his hands under my arms and pulled me up onto the bed with him, and to my surprise, kissed me. He rolled on top of me and kept kissing me, holding me in his arms. I wanted him inside me.

  “I want to have sex,” I said, leaning on him.

  I rolled on my back.

  He rolled on his side and put his arms around me. Victor kissed me, and I curled my hand around his cock until he stiffened again. He had condoms in his dresser. He showed me how to put it on him, and I lay on my back, trembling.

  “Relax,” He murmured as he slid on top of me.

  “It’s a lot bigger than your finger,” I whispered.

  “I know. I’m not going to hurt you. If you want to stop, tell me. Are you sure you-“

  “Yes.”

  I thought he would stay on top of me, but he didn’t. He rolled over and took me with him. Suddenly I was lying on his chest, resting on my arms. I sat up, gripping his hips with my thighs. I took his shaft in my hand and rubbed the tip against my entrance, feeling the warm. I’d been wet before, but not like this. It was sticky on my legs and I was throbbing, my body insistent. I shifted my weight and pressed him against me and all of a sudden he was inside, just a bit. I made an awkward noise and he held my sides to steady me. It felt so strange. He was big. I sank down on him slowly, shaking the whole time, until I settled in his lap and he sat up a bit, and pulled me towards him. I felt so weird with the heavy mass of him inside me, spreading me open, moving as I moved. He wrapped his arms around me lightly and moved under me, and I collapsed on top of him, overwhelmed by the sensation.

  Slowly, he rolled on top of me. I closed my legs around him and he strained against me, his face buried in my hair. On top of me, he made me feel small, but I liked it. I thought it was supposed to hurt. My books always talked about how it hurt. This didn’t hurt. It felt better than anything. He kissed me, murmured in my ear, laughed when I let out cries of pleasure. He slowed and stopped, and drew out of me. I was confused and started to ask if he was done, but he touched my lips with his finger and moved on the bed so he lay behind me, and slid back into me from behind. It was easier this time. My body just took him all at once, and I moaned at the feeling of completeness. His hand moved between my legs and he lightly stroked my clit while he pumped into me from behind and it drove me wild. I had to pull his hand away as my sex began throbbing, squeezing his shaft as he drove into me.

  I felt it when he finished in me. I tugged on his wrist as he used his fingers on me, my body clenching on him as he drove me to a second peak, a shaking, earth-shattering shock that passed through me in waves, from my toes to my scalp. When it was over he gently drew out of me but laid there holding me, one hand between my legs, the other lightly cupping my breast, his face buried in my hair. He breathed deep, taking in my scent, his chest flexing against my back. He pulled the blankets up over my shoulder.

  “How was it?”

  “I liked it,” I panted. “Can we do it again tomorrow?”

  I wish I could just stop it all right there. Freeze time.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Evelyn

  It is beginning to rain. It drums on the windshield. Alicia hasn’t said a word since I started talking. I told her things I’d never told anyone else, never spoken aloud. I stare through the windshield as the rain turns into streaks. It’s getting dark.

  “How long were you together?” she says, finally.

  “All though college. Three years.”

  Her hands drum on the steering wheel. “It sounds like you were a completely different person.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “The girl you just told me about was naive. Sheltered. A guy like Victor must have seen you coming a mile away. How did he hurt you?
”

  “I don’t want to talk about that,” I snap. “So what am I like now?”

  She’s quiet for a time. She sighs.

  “You’re like him.”

  “Like Victor?”

  “No. You’re like your father.”

  I should be angry that she said that, but I’m not. My arms slide around my body and I hug myself.

  “He was right,” I say softly. “He wasn’t right to hit me. He shouldn’t hit me.”

  “Then we need to stop him.”

  I roll right over her. “He was right about everything else. He was right about Victor. I thought he cared about me. I thought he needed me. He just used me. I was just another plaything for him. He used me until he was bored with me and then balled me up and threw me away, like a used tissue. The things I did for him, the things I said for him, and everything he said to me was a lie.”

  “What lie?”

  I scrub at my eyes with a napkin. It’s starting to turn into little pills, tearing apart from being scrubbed against my skin.

  “There was another girl. After me. She worked for the company. His company. He was fucking her while he was still sleeping with me.” My voice goes as tight as a stretched piece of rubber, ready to snap. “I thought he was going to ask me to marry him. I wanted him to. I never felt about anyone the way I felt about him. Nobody ever made me feel that way. I would have done anything for him. Anything. He had me wrapped around his finger. I wasn’t enough. He wanted more. Her name was Brittany,” I spat, bitterly.

  “How do you know he was having an affair with her?”

  I look over at her.

  “I saw pictures.”

  “Of them having sex?” Alicia blurts out.

  “No. Coming and going together.”

  “What did Victor say about it?”

  “He tried to hide it from me. I heard it from her, too. We all did. Me. His mother. My father. In court.”

  Alicia blinks a few times. “The trial. When they sent him to prison.”

  “Yes,” I sigh. “The trial. That was the last straw. When I listened to her describing the nature of their relationship, something cracked inside me.” I touch my chest, showing her where. “No. Not cracked. Something inside me hardened. Turned to stone. To ice. I understood all of it. I knew why he was so harsh, why he sheltered me. This world is pointless and cruel. We’re cursed with these feelings, these needs, but all they are is a way for other people get under our skin and use us and exploit us.”

  Somehow I manage to say all of that without realizing I’m sobbing.

  Her hand rests on my back.

  “Oh honey, that’s not true at all.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve been married for fifteen years,” she sighs. “I’m not going to lie to you. It does hurt. A lot. Maybe even most of the time. But when it doesn’t , those times are worth it. You told me about going to that park and all the time you spent with him and you were happy. Would you give that back to get rid of the pain? Erase it all so you don’t have to feel this anymore?

  I shake my head.

  “I didn’t think so. Did you ever give him a chance to explain himself?”

  “What is there to explain? My father was right. All he cared about was fucking me. He probably thought it was funny, or it excited him to break some silly rule about sleeping with me because our parents are married. It has to be true. It has to.”

  “Why?”

  My hands shake in front of me and my jaw trembles. I can barely choke the words out.

  “If I’m wrong, all this time he’s been in prison and if he didn’t do anything wrong… what if I hated him all this time and he didn’t do it? What then? All that time is gone. Ripped away, and I… I never…”

  “What?”

  I can’t take it. I pound my fists on her dashboard.

  “His mom made me promise,” I cry out, sobbing. “She was dying and she was in the hospital and she made me promise to tell him, to give him a chance but I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t go and I never told him what she said. I never told him.”

  I curl up for a bit, just breathe. Try to keep my food down.

  “She got sick when he got in trouble,” I rasp. “It was like it just broke something in her. The evidence was too damning. If it was just my father she might not have believed, I might not have believed, but when they came to arrest him, when they had the trial. It has to be true. He was embezzling from the company, stealing money. He was tied up in all these awful illegal things, they had proof. That had his signature on things, pictures of him coming and going, all the witnesses. I hate him. He ruined me. He ruined everything.”

  “Doesn’t matter how many times you keep saying you hate him, honey. It’s not any more true now than it was before.”

  I flinch.

  “I saw how you two looked at each other in that office. Neither of you hates the other one.”

  “I have to know the truth.”

  “Yeah. I think you do. What should we do?”

  “Get me out of here. Drive, I don’t care where.”

  She nods and starts driving while I slump in the seat. I pull up the hood of my sweatshirt and fold my arms around myself, and stare through the streaked windows. It hurts so much. I just want to disappear.

  “You still have a chance, you know,” she says.

  I don’t answer her.

  “How old are you? Twenty-eight? Honey, you’re not even thirty. Your life isn’t over.”

  “Sometimes I wish it was. How many people have I hurt?”

  “Not every company you take over gets shut down. Lots of people kept their jobs because of-“

  “I haven’t run a single takeover that didn’t end up cutting jobs.” The traffic lights become baleful glows in the mist. I lean on my hand. “I order staff reductions…” I trail off. “I fired people to improve bottom lines.”

  “Right. If you tried to keep everybody, they’d go under and they’d all lose their jobs.”

  “I read those tweets, Alicia. “How many people’s Christmases have I ruined? How many divorces have I caused? I never even thought about it before. All I saw was numbers in a spreadsheet, charts and projects and equations. It’s like I forgot people existed.”

  “How many Christmas presents did you ever get?”

  I look over at her. She’s still not looking at me. “What?”

  “How many?”

  “It’s not like I counted them.”

  “Fine. How many from your father?”

  “None. We didn’t celebrate holidays at my house. Father said it was frivolous and I could buy what I wanted with my allowance. If I needed something there was no reason to wait until December twenty-fifth to buy it for me.”

  “What about Victor and his mother?”

  “They had huge Christmases. Father hated it. I could tell. He accepted gifts and bought things for Victor’s mother, anyway. She and Victor gave me things. He gave me jewelry and…” I feel myself blush.

  Alicia’s eyebrow quirks up. “And?”

  “Other things. Sexy underwear.”

  “People call it ‘lingerie’, Eve.”

  “Whatever,” I say, sullenly. “What am I going to do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What would you do?”

  “I’d hear what Victor had to say.”

  “He hates me now.”

  “No, he does not. You sound like a twelve year old. Didn’t you hear what I told you? That man was not looking at someone he hated. He wanted to take you with him. He wasn’t there to hurt you, Eve. He was there to rescue you, even if he doesn’t know it.”

  “I don’t know how to reach him.”

  Alicia sighs. “I can find out. It is my job. Where’s there a place where you could meet him?”

  “Far away from here. If I do this, Father will find out.”

  “Find out, and hit you again, you mean.”

  I flinch.

  “It’s a ways from here. It’s a d
rive. We should go get one of the cars.”

  “No, we’ll take mine,” Alicia says.

  I’m not used to being contradicted. It’s a long drive. First, we stop at the house. Alicia goes inside and comes back with a bag of my clothes, puts them in the back of her van. I listen while she talks to her husband, who is displeased that she isn’t coming home tonight, at the very least. Their conversation is so domestic. I curl up in the seat and hug myself and Alicia drives, and drives, and drives. It’s almost a three hour trip, all in silence. City gives way to suburbs, suburbs give way to open fields and the swampy hinterlands of the Delmarva peninsula. By the time we arrive I’ve been asleep for an hour and it’s almost dark. One of the advantages of my wealth is I don’t have to worry about the cost of booking a room, but in November all the fine waterfront hotels are closed. Alicia takes the company card and books two rooms, one for each of us.

  I sprawl out on the bed of a Motel 8 and stare at the popcorn ceiling as if the tiny little swirls and bumps could give me some kind of answers. Alicia is in the other room, making phone calls.

  Just past midnight, there’s a knock at the door. Wearily, I get up and trudge over, and pull it open. I expect Alicia.

  Victor stands in the door, soaked to the bone from the driving rain that kicked up while I was lying on the bed in half-sleep. Water has glued his thick black hair to his head and drips from the tip of his nose, but he holds his head high like it’s nothing and stares at me with his clear, piercing eyes.

  “Hello,” I say, softly. “Come in.”

  I step back. He walks into the room and sloughs off a rain soaked jacket onto the floor, takes a towel from the bathroom and dries his face. The rain slashes the windows, drums on the heater built into the wall beside the door. I bolt the door and slide the chain lock into place and stand there, trying to make my hands stop shaking, but I can’t.